La Petite Mort
by bun-o-ween
Summary: A prostitute, a priest, and a story of salvation.
1. Un

They say it's the city of love.

Illuminated by the eye of the moon, Paris was alive with romanticism. It was impossible to escape the exuberant charm of the city, or the soft caress of the summer breeze that blew throughout cobbled streets in the warmer months. And if it were true about what _they_ said, then it would also be true that the red light district was the heart of the city of love.

Prostitution was a profitable, and legal, business if you were young, beautiful and willing. After dark midnight fantasies would emerge, who loved you with an open heart, as long as your pocketbook was open too. Like sirens of the back streets they would wait, hungry for your heart and money, their disgusting gorgeous bodies wandered back and forth beneath flickering lamp light, catching what they could. Some worked for hustlers, others worked alone, but all were after one thing, and one thing only.

Although they were scattered far and wide, there was one neighbourhood infamous for whores. On the outskirts of the grand city, betwixt brick mansions and stacked chimneys, was a ghetto of dilapidated buildings. Some so high they became crooked, others so small one could see their patchy roofing from the street, all held together by washing lines and wooden planks. It was a maze of dirty, slick streets, thin alleyways, street vendors and paupers that stretched over several city blocks. They called it the _antre du_ _démon,_ or the lair of the demon. It earned its name from the criminals and social outcasts who made it their home, but there was one resident who lived in the second-hand wasteland who had the face, and the name, of an angel.

A thin, pale hand hung limp from a window sill, two floors up from the dirty streets below. A cigarette was pinched between knuckles and a book laid open in the palm of the other hand. Ash dropped down from the window ledge like snow as a bare foot traced its perch. From here Ciel could watch the construction of the Eiffel tower, a large lattice tower that begun to appear nine months earlier. Its half-completed steeple was illuminated handsomely by lamp light, but Ciel's eye was on the streets below his apartment. Taking a drag from his cigarette, the boy followed the movements of a lone figure making its way towards his abode.

Ciel exhaled, smothering his smoke on the window ledge as he drew his body inside his apartment. The mystery man below was quickly approaching, so the boy pushed his long, dark hair up off his face and spread a charming smile across his features.

"Bonsoir," he said nicely, as the man came to stand directly beneath his window. The gentleman below looked up and offer a small smile. He had dark hair, and a devastatingly handsome face, with serious, piercing brown eyes. He was dressed well, hair combed, shoes shined, obviously he was not a fellow neighbour. "One moment, se il vous plait."

Ciel drew away from the window, closing the curtains behind him. The window occupied most of the right-hand side of his bedroom wall, whether the window was large or the bedroom was small was subjective. The boy swore quickly as he spun around, hastily grabbing a few garments off the mattress and throwing them beneath the bed. On his way out the door Ciel cast a glace in his mirror, fiddling with his lengthy mess of hair before slipping down the stairway.

Up close the dark-haired man was even more handsome. Ciel felt his chest swell as he opened his door wide to the visitor, who welcomed himself inside. The stranger smelt of expensive cologne as he brushed past the smaller male and came to stand in the dim stairwell of the little apartment.

"Can I 'elp you?" Ciel asked, leaning against the door until it clicked shut. In the privacy of the stairwell the taller man approached him, confidently, a faint smirk on the corners of his lips. Placing a large hand on the door above Ciel's head, the brunette leaned in and looked down on the smaller boy smugly.

"You were recommended by a friend of mine," the man explained, his accent causing Ciel to widen his eyes instantly. The husky, foreign words made the younger's heart skip a beat and his pupils dilate. "I trust you won't disappoint me."

Ciel laughed softly, bringing his hands up to lapels of the man's jacket, rubbing his palms up and down the broad chest. "I would never disappoint an _Englishman_ ," Ciel muttered in English, growing more excited by the second, his heart thudding hard in his frail chest. The handsome man looked down at the boy with an amused expression.

"Good," he replied, taking one of Ciel's hands from his coat and curling it in his own. Ciel's knuckles were bought to the thin lips of the stranger, who kissed them firmly, not removing his serious gaze from the boy. "My name is Vincent."

Vincent hung his jacket on the coat stand by the door, revealing an expensive-looking three piece suit. Ciel stood at the foot of the bed, watching the older man undress with a lidded eye. He himself wore dark trousers, fastened tightly around his middle and held up by a pair of black suspenders. He shrugged off a thin, white shirt several sizes too large and let it fall to the ground by his bare feet.

Vincent's eyes followed the fall of the shirt, and then dragged up the length of Ciel's body.. His clean shoes clicked loudly on the wooden floorboards as he made his way to the boy, staring him down with every step. He continued to watch Ciel, who gazed up at him docilely, as he shrugged his own shirt off his strong chest.

"You like Englishmen, huh?" He questioned gruffly, leering down at Ciel's bare skin. Vincent pushed the suspenders over Ciel's shoulders until they fell down to his thighs, then roughly plucked the button free of the boy's trousers.

"Oui, I love Englishmen," Ciel whispered, voice shaky as the older man dug his fingers into his sides. Encouraged by his own ego, Vincent slid his palm down between the boy's thighs, grabbing the skin there roughly. Ciel's hands shot up to the man's forearms and squeezed them as he cried out, pressing himself against the wealthy man's chest. "Uhh God," the boy moaned, trembling as Vincent's free hand came up to clench his throat. Pushing his head back the older man looked down at the boy he gripped, eyes flicking immediately to the patch that covered Ciel's left eye.

"What happened to your eye, garçon?" Vincent asked in French, causing the boy to relax considerably. His English, while strong in the bedroom, was limited to filthy phrases. The fingers that wrapped around Ciel's neck pushed forward until they trespassed the boy's lips. Ciel willingly opened his mouth and let the fingers push against his bottom teeth, his one eye staring up at the man who possessed him.

"It fell out waiting for you to fuck me," he muttered, craning his head back further. The hand between his legs paused for a moment as Vincent stared down upon him, a chuckle heating the skin of the boy's throat. Ciel averted his eye, and that's when the elder's mouth came down above his, a hot tongue rolling across his bottom lip.

Quicker than he could pull away, Ciel was being pushed down onto his stiff mattress, pinned beneath the mass of the nobleman who crawled above him, trapping his body between his hands and knees.

"Don't kiss me," Ciel said seriously, raising his hips as Vincent yanked his trousers down his milky thighs. Both released a breath of hot air as Ciel's lowered body was exposed to the candlelight, the boy hard against his naked thigh.

"What _can_ I do to you?" Vincent said in frustration, looking at the boy's fragile body rather than his face. Ciel arched his back under the gaze, pushing his young body against the clothed stiffness in the other man's trousers. The brunette grunted, wrapping two large hands around the boy's waist to drag his heavy hips over Ciel's own.

"I'll do anything for money," Ciel breathed, heart hammering as the tall mass of man leaned over him, pressed together intimately. With their bodies crushed so tightly, Ciel slipped his hand between them and unclasped Vincent's trousers, using the belt loops to yank them down a few inches. Captivated, the brunette wound a chunk of the boy's slate hair into his fist and pulled firmly.

"I want to fuck you," he demanded.

"Naturally," Ciel agreed, stomach turning as he felt the weight of Vincent's heavy cock press against him without the barrier of fabric.

"And finish inside of you."

"Standard," Ciel agreed, shuddering when his body was thrust against, making his long hair spread out across the mattress.

"And I want you to call me father," Vincent finished, glaring seriously at the pinned boy. Ciel swallowed, his throat flexing as he gave a short nod.

"A little extra," he whispered, to which he received an agreeable grunt. "I won't deny an Englishman, even if he does like to fuck his children."

Ciel's head snapped to the side as he was slapped suddenly, a loud gasp escaping his throat. His face throbbed as he felt Vincent press his mouth roughly against the side of his head and mutter into his ear.

"How much will _that_ cost me?" He spat, and then sucked the boy's ear lobe into his mouth. The small stud that pierced the boy's ear clacked against the man's teeth as it was released. Ciel sucked in air as the older man's lips left his ear and pressed into his throat.

"Oh, _father_ ," he drawled, feeling the hands on his body tighten roughly. He stifled a half-moan, half-snicker as he muttered the rest of his answer in a fake, high-pitched accent. "Not a cent if you continue to teach me the ways of the world, _father_!"

Vincent sat up quickly, scowling, as Ciel took the opportunity to scuffle backwards on the bed. Wiggling his legs, Ciel shook his trousers off his body and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear while gazing innocently at the other man.

"Hurry father, bed me! Quickly, before mother discovers us," Ciel cried, blinking his eye dramatically and touching his fingers to his lips innocently. Behind the cover of his hand he broke a large grin, to the frustration of Vincent.

"Stop that," the brunette growled, yanking the opening of his trousers wider as he crawled up to meet the boy. Ciel laughed, coming to meet the bigger man in the middle, only reaching his breastbone when they both stood on their knees.

"I'm sorry, _father_ ," Ciel muttered, looking up through his eye lashes as he faked his best apologetic expression. Two large hands slid from the boy's waist down to his ass and gripped the skin there as tightly as they could. Ciel moaned in a shaky breath, and placed his palms against Vincent's chest, touching shamelessly as he breathed out his next sentence. "Please, teach me all about the birds and the bees." Vincent lost it, a grin spreading over his strong jaw. He took great pleasure in throwing the boy down into the bed sheets and staring lewdly at his responsive body.

"I'll teach you a thing or two," Vincent promised, roughly pushing Ciel's thighs wide open and crawling between them. Airy laughter echoed through the wooden room as Ciel ran his small hands down the sides of the male, who was breathing roughly now. Fingers danced down his abdomen until they stilled between Vincent's legs. Ciel flicked his heavy eyelashes upwards as he grabbed his fingers around swollen flesh.

"You're so hard," he muttered seriously. With a heavy swallow Ciel watched the nobleman spit into his palm and then covered Ciel's hand with his own. A sapphire ring grazed the boy's knuckles as they were guided up and down Vincent's length, saliva slicking his fingers. When Vincent released his hand, Ciel bought it up to his mouth and made a show of cleaning his fingers one by one.

As his pale lips slipped off the end of his little finger he was gripped tightly and suddenly the older man was entering him forcefully, pushing all the air from Ciel's lungs out into an uncomfortable gasp.

"Fuck, Vincent!" He shouted, his body coiling inwards with instinct. A harsh tug to Ciel's hair had him swallow his cry, his fringe falling over his stern brow. He swallowed tightly, his Adam's apple rising and falling. Long hands gripped his pale, fleshy thighs and spread them even further apart, using them as leverage to force himself in deeper, a rough grunt close to Ciel's ear for his efforts.

"Watch your mouth, boy," Vincent growled, breathing in deeply through his nose as he steadied himself flush against the smaller's body.

"Yes, _father_ ," Ciel groaned, keeping his head to the side, letting his mouth fall open as he was drawn out of, the promise of another shout lingering in his throat.

...

Like a little ghost, smoke escaped Ciel's lips as he took a drag of his previously unfinished cigarette. His bare feet tickled the ends of overgrown vines that scrambled up the front of his apartment and into his home. The cool breeze soothed the throbbing of his red jaw, but the air was not as comforting as the stack of coins stacked on his little dresser.

Smiling to himself Ciel looked out over the Paris skyline, watching lights flicker and late-night pedestrians scurry past open alleyways and the chaos of his neighbourhood. It was the first week of winter and not yet so cold that the prostitute couldn't enjoy the view from his private perch. It wouldn't be that way for long, but the small payment Ciel collected assured him he would at least have somewhere warm to sleep this winter.

Flicking his cigarette butt to the cobblestone below, Ciel withdrew from the window sill and released a heavy sigh. The bed was still mussed from where Vincent had fucked him on it, untucked and overflowing with thin, grubby bed sheets. The young prostitute laughed to himself, his lifestyle wasn't so bad, especially with clients as handsome as Vincent. Still, the aching in his half-buttoned trousers reminded him that unlike his client, he hadn't finished.

He wasn't really surprised. Vincent wasn't the only man who hadn't been successful in making him finish. In fact, no man had ever achieved that. Ciel supposed, if only they tried, that he might reach his end too- but they never returned the favour _(if you could call paid sex a favour)_. For his entire life Ciel had relied only on his hand to achieve "the little death", or as the French called it, _la petite mort_.

Out in the distance the city of Paris glowed warmly, oblivious to the young prostitute or his woes. The night was only young and Ciel couldn't linger too long on his thoughts- he had money to make.

...

While the rest of Europe slept, another being was awake, walking the streets of old Paris. The tall stranger entered the city, nothing but a simple suitcase clutched in his gloved hands. While the suburbia around him slumbered, the dark-haired man placed his luggage on the cobblestone beneath him and took a long look at the sharp peak of a church steeple before him. The stained glass windows ghosted the beauty of approaching dawn, the glimmer of hope that a new city, _a new life_ , proposed.

Warm eyes squinted as the first rays of sunlight begun to show behind the monolithic structure of the church, creating an angelic glow around his new home. Birds began to sing, life begun to stir on the streets, bakers carrying freshly made loaves out onto their street vendors.

What deceptively beautiful imagery, if the strange man had only know of the slum they called _the demon's lair_ , a mere few blocks from where he stood. With a roll of his shoulders, the man shook a long night of travel off his back. He stepped forward into the church grounds with a sense of purpose, determined to make a new life for himself in Paris, _the city of love._


	2. Deux

**If I get enough reviews I'll update again tomorrow night!**

 **...**

January 1st, 1899.

 _With the rising of the sun came the rising of the angels._

The sacred heart church, or the _l'église du Sacré-Cœur_ , was already as alive as the morning. The Sacred Heart wasn't the largest of the hundreds of churches scattered throughout France, but it certainly held the majesty that a cathedral of the ages should hold. It was near impossible to look past the grandeur of the church's steeple, rising out of the gardens that decorated the holy grounds.

The grand doors of the church were open wide, letting a gentle breeze roll in. A ripple of winter wind through the grass of the gardens followed the neat clicks of men and women exiting the church. Women held delicate parasols and fans to shade their painted faces from the mid-morning sun, and men dipped their heads beneath the rims of their black hats. Morning mass was the first movement of the day, and as the church goers vacated the holy grounds, a tall man, clad in black, bid them farewell.

Sebastian Michaelis gave a smile as his American lips moved over the simple French words for goodbye. Inclining his head politely to each passing person he was offered foreign words from them in return, none of which he could understand. Drowning the voices out, the tall priest flinched slightly as a large hand patted him on the back. Turning around he was met by the face of his fellow priest, Father Claude Faustus. The handsome clergyman gave a small smile that didn't reach his bespectacled eyes.

"Father Michaelis," he offered, the local accent rich on his tongue although he spoke English rather well. "Congratulations on your first sermon."

The corners of Sebastian's lips curled up in a kind smile and he nodded in thanks, his stiff, white collar creasing as he bent his neck. Father Faustus kept his hand on the new priest's back and used it to steer him inside, engulfing them both in the solemn darkness of the chapel.

The Sacred Heart was lined with pews that stretched for meters down the carpeted isle. Magnificent stained glass windows struck bold lines against the stone walls of the building, light catching on clergy robes as they passed by the pews and the grand brass organ. At the end of the isle the two holy men stopped. Before them was the place they had taken morning mass, a lavish stand with an open Bible resting upon it. Father Faustus traced a finger over the delicate pages of the well-read Bible, his golden eyes flickering as he regarded the book. Moving his hand to cup the cover, he snapped the Bible shut, before raising his head to look at Sebastian.

"Paris is in recession," said the priest solemnly, his face deadly serious as he folded his hands together. "Our people have lost their way, we are no longer the proud city we once boasted to be." Sebastian raised his thin eyebrow slightly and pressed his lips tightly together.

"There are people in the streets, children with no homes," and here Father Faustus paused to clear his throat, before he continued with such a rich tone of disgust that it made Sebastian shiver internally, "and _whores_."

There was a thud in the back of the church, and both priests turned their heads quickly to the sound. A small, blond altar boy quickly picked up the Bible he had dropped when that vulgar word had been uttered. With an embarrassed blush he ducked down quickly, retrieving the precious book. Claude lifted his lip in annoyance as he turned back to Sebastian.

"Something must be done about the filth on our streets," he uttered, looking into the depth of Sebastian's eyes. "As you know, I've made it my mission to cleanse Paris, _personally_." The younger priest averted his gaze, giving a short nod as he felt the weight of Claude's stare on his shoulders.

"Your efforts are inspiring," Sebastian agreed. Claude Faustus was highly revered in the religious community, even in America. His life's work was devoted to the absolution of every sinning soul in Paris, and his infamous propaganda against the prostitution community.

"I won't see this city become a modern day Gomorrah," Claude stated very firmly. "We need to _help_ these young women see the light."

"Yes Father, I whole-heartedly agree" Sebastian replied, keeping his head bowed as his superior continued up the church isle, and disappeared out of sight. Once the sound of footsteps had faded away Sebastian raised his head and turned to the magnificent wooden Jesus that looked down upon the church. His first church, a small church in a city of America, had nothing so grand. This statue truly paid praise to the Heavenly Father.

Small footsteps broke Sebastian from his reverent gaze as the altar boy, who seemed up close to be a young man, passed by him to deliver his pile of Bibles to the robed table up front. With a small grunt the teenager dusted his hands and then whipped back around.

"Bonjour," he said brightly, his face suspiciously happy. Sticking out his hand the young blonde waited for Sebastian to accept it, before shaking it delicately. Mischief practically bled from every pore of the boy's features, from his short stance to his icy blue eyes. He kept a firm hold of the priest's hand when he tried to remove it, and instead stepped in closer and cocked his head to the side.

"Vous êtes un menteur," the boy muttered after a moment, a little smile playing on his boyish lips. White eyelashes fluttered innocently at the older. Dropping Sebastian's hand, the blonde took a step backwards. Despite not knowing any French, Sebastian had a feeling he'd just been insulted, and an annoyance possessed his features.

"Alois!" A voice shouted, Claude suddenly reappeared with his robes billowed around him. Storming down the church isle, the man's bark was enough to send the altar boy into panic, whom skittishly backed off, trotting off quickly in the opposite direction. With an annoyed glare Claude regarded the cowardly child who had escaped to the safety of the pews. Approaching Sebastian the two looked over the altar boy, who had begun to move routinely through the isles, pausing every now and then to pick up a book and place it in the stack in his arms.

"He doesn't speak any English," muttered Claude, watching the boy with annoyed eyes.

"I don't know any French," Sebastian retorted, to which he earned a short smile.

"You'll surely learn, Michaelis," he said in his casual monotone voice, giving a pat to Sebastian's shoulder. With that said he turned and made his way out again, but not without giving a warning glance to the altar boy.

At age 29, Sebastian Michaelis was considered one of the youngest and brightest American clergymen to have been offered a position in Europe. Of course, Sebastian had been flattered, enamored even, at the opportunity to further his priesthood in fair Paris, and had eagerly accepted. Although his devotion to his parish and his Lord knew no boundaries, he had always felt somewhat of a big fish in a small pond. There was nothing for him in his old life, no family, no friends, so he'd packed his suitcase and sought what he hoped would be the adventure of a lifetime.

Sebastian was always mindful of his own selfishness. It was a sin to want more than one needed, yet the young man knew the world offered more than America could provide him. Now, as he stood in the glorious gardens of his new church, Sebastian considered exploring his new neighbourhood. The area that surrounded the Sacred Heart church was a nice one, kept clean and swept, abundant with fresh fruit and flower stalls, markets, and a busy thrum of pedestrians. Small children skipped through a crowd of adults, their fine Sunday shoes clacking against the pebbles as parents tried to subdue their playful spirits. Since arriving three days previously, the young priest hadn't ventured outside the church gates once. With his duties done and dusted for the day, Sebastian decided to leave the confines of his home and see the new country he was now a part of.

...

An intense rumble of a shudder traveled down the length of Ciel's lanky calf as he stretched, pointing his booted toe towards the stone beneath him. He fidgeted a bit on his feet and rolled his shoulders, tossing back his head to let it gracefully graze the tops of his shoulder blades. The young man arched and moved as if preparing for a long run, but he was only cold. The shrill air stung against his thin shirt and he tugged his woollen jacket tighter around himself. The damn thing was far too large, but Ciel knew he shouldn't complain. He had stolen it after all, he recalled with a devious smirk.

Ciel stood a few blocks from his apartment, a brisk walk from the demon's lair. It was verging on high-class and hell, Ciel knew he could be arrested for even lingering in a neighbourhood like this one. His skin had been washed and his hair had been combed, and he had propped his pretty body up against grimy stone walls, one foot on the ground and the other leaning on the wall behind him. Although it was legal for prostitutes to roam the streets, it was unsightly for one to beckon men in broad daylight in a reputable shopping district, especially a male prostitute at that.

As upper-class men walked past (going out of their way to step around the street urchin) Ciel would try to catch their eye. If he were lucky he could lock his one sapphire eye onto their wandering glance, and if he were even luckier, they would stop to talk to him. But it was unusual for the prostitute to be lucky. Even if these men were the type to stray from the path of normality, it was rare they would fall for a boy. Ciel lacked certain _assets_ others found attractive. Ciel raised his chin and scoffed at an old man who had paused in his path to stare at the boy.

"What?" Ciel bit, tugging up the bottom of his shirt to expose his pale chest. The boy smirked as disgust spread over the old pervert's features, and he waggled his eyebrows at him. "Too much for you, _huh_?"

"Disgusting," the old man muttered back at him, hunching over his expensive cane and continuing his hobble down the neat streets. Ciel crossed his arms over his chest and spat onto the street, watching him retreat. _Good riddance_ , he thought.

It wouldn't be safe to stay around much longer, so with a sturdy kick to the wall behind him, Ciel pushed off the stone and started heading back the way he had come from, fumbling for the box of matches in his oversized pocket. Not looking where he was going, Ciel slammed into a brick wall of a chest and toppled roughly to the ground.

" _Shit_ ," he swore loudly, hissing as he knew he'd surely scraped both his elbows on the stones below him. His matchsticks were scattered across the walkway too, box crumpled and empty beside them. Looking up angrily he was surprised to see the culprit still standing there, offering him a gloved hand to get back on his feet. Ciel looked at the extended hand like it was filthy, and then flicked his eye up to the dumb ox who'd knocked him down.

"Get your hand away from me," he warned in French, scowling upwards to the tall figure above him. The sunlight blocked out his face but from here he could tell he was dressed head to toe in black. Pushing himself off the ground, and dusting himself down Ciel finally lifted his head to the stranger and felt his heart catch in his throat.

" _Shit_ ," he swore again for the second time.

The stranger was handsome, undeniably so. For the lack of a better cliché, he was tall, dark and handsome. He was older than Ciel, and as pale as the impending winter. Thin lips, long eyelashes, serious warm eyes and dark locks that made him seem even more dramatically good-looking. Half his hair was tucked studiously behind one ear, the rest fell in loose locks against the side of his face. A black scarf was wound around his neck, and layers of thick black robes hung off the broad, strong shoulders that literally knocked Ciel off his feet.

"Please forgive me," the man suddenly spoke, and another wave of exhilaration rushed through Ciel's body. Like an encyclopedia of accents, Ciel's brain registered the deep foreign language immediately, and was pleased he could actually understand what the man had said. If being tragically beautiful wasn't enough to slay Ciel, having the most gorgeous accent known to man surely was.

 _American!_

"Did I hurt you?" The man asked again, and Ciel suddenly realised he'd been caught staring at the pretty man before him. The words took a moment to register inside the boy's mind before he could answer.

"No," he replied in English, cheeks turning pink. Ciel offered a coy smile and accepted the man's hand when he reached out to shake it. Swallowing another lump in his throat, the young prostitute was suddenly struck by the sheer size of the stranger's hand wrapped around his own. Encased in a glove the boy could barely see his own hand as those long fingers wrapped around it.

"My name is Sebastian," offered the taller, much taller, man. Ciel softly shook the clasped hand and nodded, shaking himself out of his stupor.

"I'm Ciel," he replied, coming to his senses. "Parlez-vous français?" Sebastian's eyebrow knitted slightly, and a blank look came over his handsome but serious features.

"I'm sorry, I don't speak French," he admitted uncomfortably, and Ciel rolled his one eye. _That's what I just asked you, idiot!_

"I speak English not well," Ciel offered, waving his hand in a _so-so_ motion. "Américain, no?"

Sebastian nodded, and tilted his head in the direction of a large church in the neighbourhood behind them. The young man felt a swell of forbidden pride as he announced what he'd had the chance to tell no one. "I actually just began my priesthood at the Sacred Heart church."

"Priest?" Ciel asked, his eyebrow raising and the corners of his mouth tugging downwards. He'd already taken two steps back before the man noticed his severe change in expression. The boy looked nervous.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Sebastian asked, concerned, but the English flew right over Ciel's head. Instead the boy turned his back to him and began walking in the opposite direction.

"Wait!" The handsome voice called out but the young prostitute kept his back turned to him. The boy groaned as he heard sharp footsteps hurry behind him, and he whipped around to find the grave behemoth stalking after him.

"I 'ave no time for priests," Ciel seethed venomously, turning his nose up to the man. Priests were Ciel Phantomhive's sworn natural enemies. Turning his back to Sebastian once more he continued to skulk homeward bound.

"I didn't mean to offend you, young man." Ciel groaned outwardly and shot a look over his shoulder. There he was again, continuing in a brisk pace alongside him.

"Offend?" Ciel scoffed, laughing rudely in his general direction. "Do I not offend _you_?" He spat.

"Why would you offend me?" Sebastian intruded, his genuinely sincere expression infuriating the boy further. That, and Ciel silently despised that it took just one stride for him to catch up to three of Ciel's paces.

" _Oh_ , you do not know?" Ciel sung smugly, looking sideways at the man. He still held a serious expression as he shook his head, so Ciel stopped suddenly. Looking up into the man's eyes he took delight in knowing he was about to crumble that stoic expression of his.

"I am a **whore** ," he practically shouted, making the priest flinch immediately. Sebastian's mouth opened as if he were about to say something, but he pressed it into its usual tight-lipped expression, and settled for letting the tips of his ears turn red in embarrassment. Ciel pitied him, and laughed softly. "Now you know," he smiled, taking one more lingering gaze at the world's most attractive man before turning his back on him for good.

...

Ciel walked his usual route home, keeping to thin, dark alleyways to stay out of sight. They were damp, and stank horribly, but he preferred to be out of the public eye. The young man kicked the remains of a rotting wooden crate with the tip of his boot and watched as a rat scurried from out beneath it and into the darkness. Grimacing, the boy scuffled through the tunnel as fast as possible before emerging into his own neighbourhood.

During the day the streets were mostly bare, filled with only street vendors trying to sell putrid bread or overpriced meat scraps. A homeless dog hung around one of the street carts, hoping to pinch lunch, and a few children played off to the far side of the street's end. Ciel just had his apartment in sight, hand wrapped around the key in his pocket, when a deep voice called out across the clearing.

"Prostitution is forbidden."

Ciel stopped dead in his tracks, the hair on the back of his neck prickling at the baritone declaration. Sebastian walked briskly behind Ciel, the words of Father Faustus echoing in his ear. He saw a prostitute in need, and Ciel saw an intruder.

Livid, Ciel snarled at the man behind him. "It _is_ legal."

"Not in the eyes of the Lord," rebutted Sebastian, making Ciel whip around in rage. The matter-of-factly expression he wore was enough to make Ciel laugh, for lack of a more searing insult. He opened his mouth to yell at the brazen priest but he was already holding his hand up, speaking once more.

"The Bible says 'Do not degrade your daughter by making her a prostitute,'" Sebastian said solemnly, looking down at Ciel. As an afterthought he muttered sheepishly, "Leviticus."

" _Daughter_?!" Ciel spat, gasping at Sebastian like a fish out of water.

"What you're doing is sexually immoral," continued Sebastian, whose handsome face had now become frustrated and annoyed. He didn't know what he was doing, but he was damn sure he could give it a try. He grit his teeth as Ciel laughed rudely at him once more and threw his hands up in the air.

" _Sexually immoral_!" He shouted, gaining the attention of several bystanders. "Merci, sir! _Merci_! I 'ad _no_ fucking idea!" Red quickly rose to the priest's cheeks as the boy's words drew wandering eyes. Rushing forward he quickly clasped his gloved hand tightly over the boy's mouth.

"Please be quiet!" He hissed, roughly gesturing _shh_ with his spare hand. Ciel screamed bloody murder under his make-shift gag and he thrashed, pushing roughly at the man's big shoulders. Sebastian hardly flinched, but released his captive, who took off angrily towards a row of buildings.

"Do you not know that your body is a member of Christ _himself_?" Sebastian shouted after the insolent boy, looking crossways at the attention both of them had gained. Ciel still kept his back to him, approaching his building to unlock the door.

Ciel yanked his front door open and pulled it roughly behind him, groaning loudly in frustration when instead of slamming shut it was ripped back open by a black gloved hand. Seemingly exhausted Ciel paid no mind to the priest who rudely intruded his home and followed him up the staircase.

"He who sins sexually sins against his own body," Ciel heard Sebastian call from the stairwell, before the preacher himself arrived in his doorway.

" _Oooooh_! Is that _so_!" Ciel shouted, mocking a voice of absolute shock and revelation. Sebastian nodded thoughtfully and crossed his arms over his chest to cover his embarrassment, regarding the room with a flick of his burning eyes.

"Your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, _Ciel_." The young prostitute responded by shuffling his boots off and dumping them loudly at the foot of his mattress. Sebastian took a further step into the forbidden bedroom and regarded the bed itself with disdain.

"Is this where it happens?" He asked seriously, noticing the unkempt sheets, the creased mattress. Ciel, with his back to the man, begun unbuttoning his shirt without a further glance to the bed or the priest who was judging him.

"Quoi?" Ciel asked, looking lazily in the direction of the priest's words as he unclasped the front of his trousers.

"Is this where you dishonour God with your body?" Sebastian's face was red and uncomfortable. He honestly hadn't thought this God-fearing crusade through. To be honest Ciel hadn't caught a single word the clergyman had spewed since entering his apartment. He focused all of his energy in undoing his clothes, and then lighting a cigarette.

With his first drag Ciel let his shoulders relax, and his long hair fall back against his jacket collar. Closing his one remaining eye he stretched his muscles and unclasped the two clips of his suspenders.

"Sebastian?" He asked, calmly, to the man behind him, as his trousers slipped off his thighs, and he stepped out of them quietly. The clergyman looked up from his judgmental examination of Ciel's bed sheets.

"Go fuck yourself," Ciel finished, pinching his smoke between his lips. With that, he slid his jacket and shirt off his shoulders, and stood completely naked by his bedroom window. Ciel watched the holy eyes of the priest flick from his face, to his naked body, and then to the floorboards between them. Even with his head bowed Ciel could see the man clench his jaw with humility, and red flood his cheeks.

"What's the matter _cowboy_? No more to say?"

Lifting his chin proudly, Sebastian finally met the boy's sole eye. Stubbornly, he refused to break contact, even as Ciel leaned back onto his sullied mattress, spreading his arms wide behind him. Reclining, he took a deep drag of his cigarette and grinned coquettishly. Sebastian's thin lips wavered momentarily, as if he were about to break, but he kept completely calm and spoke down to the brazen display. "You will be punished for your actions if you don't repent," he promised, casting his eyes upwards to the ceiling, blushing, and then back down on the condemned whore.

"I apologise for entering your home without permission," he added truthfully, bowing slightly and turning his back. "Good day," he said, no longer able to look at the brazen boy before him. With that he was out the door, disappearing in a flurry of robes as quickly as he had come.

 _Good riddance_ , thought Ciel, for the second time that day.


	3. Trois

The loud slam of a door echoed against the silent court of the 'demon's lair'. No neighbours were there to hear it, but a thin, black cat near jumped out of its skin. Its buttery nose soon returned to nudge against an abandoned potato peel, but that's when it noticed it was no longer alone.

Wool robes billowed past the creature, the whip of thick fabric catching in the breeze. Backing into the alleyway the cat hid behind the skeleton of a wooden crate, rotating her ears forward to listen for an attacker. Instead, a tall, thin man stormed into her chosen hide-out and groaned loudly in frustration.

Sebastian couldn't get the image out of his head. The cleric had seen but one naked body before today- his _own_. He now had the brazen memory of another's bare skin tattooed into his psyche permanently. The male grit his teeth as he thought of how shamelessly Ciel had looked at him, naked as the day he was born.

A small _breow_ came from below him, so he broke away from his nightmare to glance down at the ground below.

"Don't look at me like that, please" the priest complained at his little visitor. "The morning _I've_ had, I'm hardly in a mood for you."

Seeming not to take it too personally, the cat took a seat and curled her tail around her feet. Yellow eyes widened as the tall man before her seemed to lose it again, sighing loudly and curling his fists into balls.

Sebastian wasn't a stranger to prostitutes, _of course_ , he had met several in his life. What self-respecting man of God _wouldn't_ reach out to them? The women he had met were ashamed, dirty, and overly-eager to repent for their lost morals, even finding it difficult to look the priest eye to eye. Each and every one of them had also been irrevocably _female_! Sebastian's heart-rate sped up as he weighed his burdens in each hand. Which was worse? The brash, disrespectful way he'd been spoken to, or the fact that Ciel was indisputably male!

"Never have I ever met someone so _rude_ , and so flagrant," Sebastian bit to no one in particular, perhaps to himself or the observing cat. The priest suddenly pointed an accusing finger at the black feline and sent his words right towards her.

"A prostitute, _and_ a homosexual," he uttered, his eyes wide with disbelief. Sebastian rubbed the heel of his hand over his chest, feeling the soft bruising from where the boy had literally run into him earlier. _If only_ he had known what he was in for, Sebastian surely would have been more vigilant! Still, this is exactly what Father Faustus had warned him about. It was his wish to absolve any prostitute from damnation, and despite the severe rattling he'd just been through, Sebastian was still determined to set this boy on the right track!

Sebastian breathed calmly in through his nose and leaned up against the brick wall of the alleyway, considering where he could go from here. From where he stood he could see the cursed apartment, on the opposite side of the courtyard. That dark, wide window stared back at him with unashamed boldness, much like the one-eyed devil whom lived inside.

...

Ciel's long hair hung down between his shoulder blades as he arched his neck back. Fat fingers gave a rough tug to his hair so he grunted and rolled his eye up to glare at his tasteless customer.

The white-haired, pudgy old man made a face so ugly Ciel thought he would gag on his dick as it hit the back of his throat. His greedy fingers yanked at his hair again to pull him forward and Ciel balled his fists, resisting the urge to maim the disgusting pervert. He looked up at his client with an expression that embodied spite, but the hammy senior was too enraptured in squeezing Ciel's skull to notice. So, Ciel squeezed shut his one good eye and tried to imagine he was elsewhere, which was rather difficult to do while sucking off a sixty year old man. While his long eyelashes fluttered the tops of his cheeks, the young whore thought of the home invader he'd made acquaintance with that morning. _Sebastian_ , he thought, as he hollowed out his cheeks and buried his nose into the fat underbelly of the man sitting on his bed. He almost laughed with his mouth-full when he thought about how stupid the older man had looked. _If only he could see me now_ , he considered.

"I bet you like that." The croaky, gruff voice broke Ciel from his thoughts, and he was back in reality, knees aching from kneeling on the floor so long. Ciel looked up into small, beady eyes of his client, and a pleasant smile materialised as he pulled his head off that putrid dick.

"Oh, I _love it_ ," Ciel grit cruelly through his teeth, digging his fingers into the pink, fleshy thighs of his client. Ciel internally screamed with disgust, but his face didn't spoil him. Obediently he opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue, the perfect image of debauchery.

 _I hope you fucking die when you cum_ , Ciel thought as he let him take control with another chubby fistful of dark hair. He focused on a dark stain in the man's crumpled waistcoat until his vision became unfocused, and he thought of something else.

...

Sebastian watched the sun stain the church's floor a vibrant orange, which lit up dust lingering in the rays. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth and then looked up as the man next to him sighed.

"I warned you about them," Claude chastised and shook his head as if he were speaking to a child. "They're a dirty plague on our city."

Sebastian had immediately told his horror story to the clergyman upon arriving back at the Sacred Heart. Expressing his anger relieved him somewhat, however, when he shared what he had seen it did not make him feel as light as he would have hoped. He'd not been entirely truthful when recounting his day's events, and that guilt laid heavily inside of him now. He hadn't mentioned that the whore he'd had the misfortune of literally running into was a _boy_.

"I worried the move would be too heavy a cultural adjustment for you, Michaelis," the priest confided, seeming to pity Sebastian. His condescending smirk made Sebastian's eyebrow twitch slightly. "Our cities' whores can be worrisomely brash. _Dangerously_ so," he added with a dark undertone.

Father Michaelis gave a half-hearted nod and watched his superior pace back and forth between them both.

"You say she didn't show any signs of humility?" Claude questioned, and Sebastian shook his head, culpability beginning to weigh heavily on him when Ciel was referred to as a woman.

"No modesty? No remorse for luring an _innocent priest_ into her lair?" Sebastian swallowed. Perhaps he hadn't been entirely truthful about everything. _Admission isn't lying_ , he convinced himself.

"None."

Claude hung his head and clasped his hands before him. "Perhaps she is _too_ sullied to be saved," he decided, and looked at Sebastian with cold eyes. The expression formed a hard lump in the younger priest's throat.

"What do you mean, Father?"

Claude let a smirk ghost over his lips very briefly. "Perhaps she should be _taken care of_."

The lump in Sebastian's throat doubled in size.

"I don't understand," he admitted. Claude widened his eyes a little, as if Sebastian possessed no common sense.

"If she is, as you say, _unsalvageable_ , then we may have no other choice but to…" Claude's face was stern as he drifted off to look at the magnificent Jesus that watched over their church. Sebastian followed his gaze as panic begun to flood through him.

"No choice but to, _to what_?" He echoed. Something was not sitting right with him. Surely his superior in age, wisdom and position couldn't mean _that_.

"To put her down." _Like a dog_ , was Sebastian's immediate thought once the words were spoken aloud.

"Murder," Sebastian uttered, casting his eyes downwards, "is the _gravest_ of sins." Claude made a sound of throughout disagreement in the back of his throat.

"Annihilation," he corrected poisonously, raising the hairs on the back of Sebastian's neck, "and it is our moral obligation to destroy those who do not comply with God's wishes."

Sebastian's heart hammered furiously in his chest as he looked from Claude, to the wooden Jesus above them. "I may have spoken too soon," Sebastian suddenly blurted. Claude looked at the younger man with mild interest.

"You believe she can be saved?" Claude questioned. Sebastian nodded without missing a beat.

"Yes, I do." The elder must have read the determination on the younger's face, because he gave in and nodded.

"I have complete faith in you, Sebastian. If anyone can pull a cureless soul back from the edge, surely it would be you. Do not disappoint me," he warned.

The guilt Sebastian carried seemed unbearable now.

...

Ciel bounced three coins up and down in his hand, weighing the rewards of a job well done. His hair, which was slicked back against his head, dripped cold water onto his shirt collar. After dunking his head in a pail, the boy had spent the last half hour rubbing salt into his teeth and then spitting it out his window sill. The taste of his last client was hard to rid.

But, the comforting weight of pay in his palm was distracting enough to him, so he smiled slightly. Edging open the second drawer of his dresser, Ciel unwound a balled sock and slipped the three coins inside to join the others. He held the small bounty of hard-earned payment in his fist for a moment, considering what he would spend it on. Tobacco, tea, rent; Ciel's largest expenses.

He quickly shoved the secret stash far up the back of the draw when a loud knock rang out from downstairs. Slamming the draw shut Ciel stood up and walked over to his window, peeking a look at his visitor.

Ciel's heart fell. "Tell me this isn't happening," he mumbled as he drew away from the window and sighed in exasperation. Sebastian stood at his front door, waiting patiently with that same, dumb, serious expression on his face. Instead of going downstairs to greet him, Ciel shoved open his window and shouted down at the unwelcome vision.

"Ey!" He barked, loud enough for the man to jump and look up at him. The priest stared at him with wide, startled eyes.

"Good evening Ciel, may I speak to you?" He asked politely, embarrassed by the boy's loud exclamation. The young prostitute grinned nastily and pushed his window open wider so he could lean against the frame. Wet hair, shirt unbuttoned, he sneered down at the clergyman as if he were a prince.

"No," Ciel smiled charmingly, raising his finger to his face so he could inspect his fingernails nonchalantly. He almost laughed when the holy man's face fell, like a crestfallen dog. "I 'ave no time for you," he added, waving his hand in dismissal. When the priest frowned Ciel sucked in a breath, admiring how his attraction doubled for the man when he was angry.

By now the sun was hidden behind the buildings on the opposite side of the street, and sunlight poked through unthatched rooves. Long shadows stretched grotesquely across the ground. The last embers of daylight fell upon Ciel's fair face as he looked down on his unworthy subject.

"I wish to speak with you, please" the tall, thin man implored. As the sun fell, more and more residents left their houses and began to fill the streets, on their way to local taverns or to participate in less favorable nightly acts.

" _Oh_ , Sebastian," Ciel said with pity and cocked his head, causing two strands of damp hair to fall over his eye patch, "I 'ave no wish to speak with you." When Ciel spoke English his voice was so thick with accent that it was often hard to decipher. The boy had a voice like he was trying to speak with a mouth full of honey.

The boy's insolence seemed to be the last straw for Sebastian, who sighed, pulled Ciel's front door open and let himself in.

"Ey!" Ciel yelled, darting from his window to his bedroom door, yanking it open just as Sebastian reached the top of his staircase. "What are you doing!" The boy seethed at the much taller man, who brushed right past him and let himself into his room.

"I said I wanted to talk," Sebastian admitted, clasping his hands together as he took in his surroundings again. Ciel threw his back up against his bedroom wall and folded his arms, jerking his head towards the door.

"Out," he demanded, glaring roughly at the second-time-intruder. Ciel jutted his hips out and glared daggers at the priest. "I am busy."

"I don't see anyone here, or _here_ ," Sebastian threw back, letting his eyes flick to the boy's empty bed. Huffing, Ciel pushed himself off the wall behind him and walked slowly over to the unwelcome holy man. He came to stop two feet in front of the priest, and stared up into two patient, auburn eyes.

"Listen," Ciel bit as he aimed his pointed finger at the man's chest. "I 'ave no time for you," he explained quietly, angrily.

"I'd just like to talk," Sebastian repeated honestly to the boy. "Your soul is at stake." He meant it with his whole heart. He watched as Ciel's shoulders rose and fell in a heavy sigh.

"I don't want to 'ear it," Ciel replied definitively, his head shaking side to side. "All the same, you will burn in 'ell, your body is not your own, talk talk talk!" He snapped his hand together in a chatting motion, rolling his eye back into his head.

"You want to change me, no? _Save me Sebastian_!" Ciel practically moaned the last line, throwing his arms around himself like he was begging to be rescued. He blinked his eye prettily at Sebastian and laughed when he saw his eyebrows raise. "I thought as much."

"I only want to help you," Sebastian offered, but was silenced with a rude finger waggled in his face.

"I don't need help," Ciel frowned, like Sebastian was utterly crazy. "I love this," he revealed to the older, taller, patient man. "I love it, I want to fuck _all_ of France!"

Sebastian's eyes fell to the floor and he swallowed, very embarrassed by Ciel's rough words. "Please, don't curse," he requested, looking disgusted. Ciel suddenly laughed loudly, the sound echoing throughout the little apartment.

"Get **out** of my 'ouse!" He cried, pointing at the open door.

The tension was thick in the little wooden room, only broken when Ciel heard Sebastian pull a piece of paper from his coat's pocket. In his hands he offered a neat, folded note to the boy, who stared at it like it was trash. When Ciel didn't receive the note, the priest placed it on his bedside table instead, and then stood to leave.

"That's my address," the priest explaining, looking from the note to the boy. Ciel rolled one eye. "It's important you come see me."

" _Oh_ , I'm sure it is!" He mocked, nose turned up in the air. "Now. _Get_. **_OUT_**."

Sebastian's eyes widened at the demand but he refused to be intimidated. Locking his jaw into a stubborn stance, he regarded the young prostitute with a judgmental flick of his eyelashes.

"I'll come back if you don't come to see me." Honestly Ciel didn't understand a word of that sentence.

"I apologise for wasting your time, Ciel, and," he added with a handsome blush, "entering your home disrespectfully a second time." The boy _tsk_ ed. Never in his entire life had his name been spoken more than it had been today.

"Out!" Ciel yelled this time, snapping so fast it spooked the priest into heading for the door. Ciel stalked him out of the frame, leaning his arm against the wall so the intruder couldn't barge in for the third time today. He watched the back of the man's broad back descend down the stairs to exit his door, and hopefully his life.

"I'll see you soon, Ciel," the priest reminded as he left the dilapidated building.

"I doubt it," Ciel yelled back, before slamming his door so rough he thought the wood would snap in half. " _I'll see you soon_ ," Ciel drawled, mocking the man in a crude American accent and giving the shut door a violent kick for good measure. This time splinters fell to the floor. _Soon my ass_.


End file.
